


Friends

by siba



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siba/pseuds/siba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As created from a request on Tumblr based on the prompt "We're not just friends and you fucking know it" I give you Friends! It's a small Ficlet that follows Stan and Kyle in College until their Junior year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends

5) “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Style (Stan/Kyle)

College had been advertised as the highlight of my life for as long as I could remember. Everyone had their best memories in college; they met the love of their life in college, they got drunk and made stupid memories that would last them a lifetime, memories of best friends, of failed conquests and tests that they would laugh at when they were old and grey in their run-of the mill job. Working nine to five so much that it sucked the life out of them every damn day. But what I realized people remembered most besides shitty roommates and the one that could have been, was their best friend.   
My best friend was Stan Marsh, the only other guy on my entire dorm room floor who, during our freshman year, managed to turn all of his white clothing pink in one fell swoop. Our Sophomore year, as lost as we both were in what we wanted to do, we weren’t lost in our shared dorm room. Rather, we found ourselves through several bad games of Guitar Hero, half empty bottles of alcohol that were gone by the second round, and late night conversations about everything and anything that we could think of at the time. We were young, but on those nights where we would lay on the floor amidst a pile of blankets, staring up at the white foam ceiling, we felt like we were ancient. The secrets of the universe were hidden in the curves of those tiles, the answers to love and vital questions were all hidden in the half drunk ramblings of two college boys who thought they knew it all.   
Junior year rolled around, and those half drunken nights became more and more scarce, our connection was lost amongst the piles of paperwork that we drowned ourselves in, like two salmon trying to swim upstream in order to reach that unrealistic idea of ‘Happiness’. The kind that meant guys like us would end up married by thirty, having three to four kids, and settling down at a job we hated for the next fifty years amongst the tragedy that is the daily grind. The reality of the world was just starting to creep in like the tide inching up the shore, getting closer to our safe haven in the trees.   
Senior year was when I began to notice a change in Stan, how he would ignore me when we were in the same room, like I had said something irrevocably terrible to him. It didn’t strike me as odd at first, the cold shoulder was something I had grown used to over the years when Stan was angry at anyone really; he would ignore everyone until the situation had been resolved or he got over it. But he didn’t seem to do either of those two, rather he ignored me for the better part of two months; the only response I would get would a response to my statements that we needed to pay the rent for our shared apartment just off of the edge of campus. ‘Ok.’ Was all he ever said in regards to it.  
That is until I came home one day to find Stan sprawled out on the floor of our living room, staring up at the ceiling of our apartment much like we used to in the old days. Before the reality of life caught up with us, before girlfriends and drama put tension between us…  
Before my best friend, was no longer my best friend.  
There was something different about how Stan laid in the middle of the floor, this wasn’t the position of a man who had been wondering whether the chicken or the egg came first. This was the position of a man who didn’t know what he was doing, or was feeling the ultimate conflict within the confines of his own mind. The war ravaging Stan’s conscious was something I could have never imagined while he laid on that floor, looking so innocent and so helpless at the same time. So much so, that I even debated on whether to pick him up and carry him to bed-  
But that’d be too weird for roommates, now wouldn’t it?  
“Hey man, are you okay?-” I mused as I stepped into the doorway, closing our front door behind me and immediately shedding off my jacket and messenger bag before I stepped anywhere close to Stan.  
“Fine-” He mutters, his voice barely muffled because it sounded like he wasn’t actually moving his lips when he spoke. Although, he didn’t need to speak for me to know that something was up. I could just tell, the aura of the room and the way that his eyes no longer had their normal sparkle, especially since Stan was the life of the party.   
But I didn’t push, instead, I sat down beside Stan’s frame and took a deep breath to help relieve the tension in my body from a long day in class and at work. No matter what anyone says, being a barista is hard work.  
“We’re not friends.” He finally says, a statement that struck me to my very core as my head whipped towards Stan. Although I couldn’t look at his eyes or his blank expression as if he hadn’t just ripped my heart out of my chest and was using it as a pillow under his dark locks, even darker now thanks to the dim lighting of the living room.   
“Stan, what the fu-”  
“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it, Kyle-” He says now much more forcefully, those beaty but brilliant eyes gazing into mine as he sits up, allowing the blanket once draped around him to fall off of his frame, revealing his shirtless chest and the tops of his favorite pajama pants, the flannel ones I had gotten him for christmas our sophomore year.  
“Dude, do you know how many times I’ve gotten your drunk calls man? Or how many times I-..we-...Shit-” Stan leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and craning his back forward so that his head hung low. As to why, I didn’t know.   
“I can’t do this shit anymore man, the on and off when you’re drunk; pretending like nothing happened when the morning comes..”   
I was fucking speechless, we’d..? I knew that I had a tendency not to remember what happened when I got drunk, but I never knew that it went to that extent…  
“Quit Fucking with me, Kyle-”   
I couldn’t blame Stan for the sudden harsh tone and angered way that he said my name. Shit, anyone would be mad if the basis for an entire relationship other than being friends involved one party being shit-faced drunk..But before I knew it, my lips were pressed against his. My hands rested against his cheeks, cupping those stubbled cheeks between my fingers and feeling how he really needed to shave more than once a week.  
But I didn’t care. The kiss was exhilarating, the kind that would take your breath away if held too long, and that’s exactly what we did; making it so that when I pulled back from the kiss, our breathing mixed together in a tantalizing combination of heat and rising passion.   
“Shut the fuck up Stan-” I whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of my own lips as I looked into his eyes, barely even nothing how his hair was stuck between our foreheads, or how both of our cheeks had become red.  
“We’re not just friends Stan, and we won’t be from now on-”  
That night, we made sure that we both remembered what happened and when the morning came, the only thing I could think about was how I had been blessed with such an amazing roommate, ex-best friend, and Boyfriend.


End file.
